


Wednesday Night at the Rusty Spur

by firesign10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amusing Dean and Crowley, Comment Fic, Demon!Dean, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a slow night at the Rusty Spur, until two strangers walk in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wednesday Night at the Rusty Spur

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [auntmo9](%E2%80%9Dauntmo9.livejournal.com%E2%80%9D)'s prompt of “The bartender/ waitress' thoughts who took pictures of Demon!Dean and Crowley in cowboy hats” on the [spn_bigpretzel](%E2%80%9Dspn_bigpretzel.livejournal.com%E2%80%9D) outsider POV comment meme.

It was a slow night at the Rusty Spur. Jenny stifled a yawn as she slung some dirty plates and silverware into the dish tub. The Rusty Spur wasn't usually busy during the week to begin with – it was the karaoke nights on the weekend that pulled the college kids and bored suburbanites in. Tonight there were just some regulars; Tom from the garage with a couple of his mechanics, a few truckers who pulled local routes. Stan from the shipping store. Marta, off her shift at the diner, still in her gingham uniform, although free of her apron and nametag. And so on.

Jenny yawned again and started wiping the empty tables for a second time.

The front doors blew wide, making her jump. All the customers' heads turned as two men entered laughing raucously. Jenny's mouth curled involuntarily, the force of their merriment was so strong.

They plopped down at the bar, and she hastened over to take their order. As she came around the old wood bar, she got a good look at her new customers. They sure weren't regulars – she'd never seen them before – and they couldn't have been more different.

The first man was clearly older than his friend. He had very short, dark hair on a round head, a closely-trimmed beard, and wore a plain dark suit. His companion had to be the handsomest man Jenny had ever seen. Light brown hair, styled in a softly spiky wave. Cheekbones that could have been from one of those sculptures she'd studied in Art class. Skin dusted with tiny freckles, and ginger-brown stubble on the strong jawline. All the obvious masculine beauty contrasted with a mouth that was lush as any woman's, full-lipped and dusty pink.

“Hey, darlin',” his whiskey-rough voice drawled. When he looked at her, his eyes were so deep green, her breath caught. _I thought guys only looked like this in GQ or Harpers,_ she thought. _Not walking into some bar in East Bumfuck, Texas._

“Uh, hi, welcome to the Rusty Spur” she choked out. _Buck up, you goose,_ she scolded herself. To distract herself from Cutie Pie, she turned to face his friend. Said friend was glowering at her with dark, beady eyes – so dark that for a second, they seemed...completely black. Like, _completely._

“Draft and Jack,” the older man growled. “Leave the bottle.”

Cutie Pie punched Mr. Crabby in the shoulder. “Chill, man,” he said. “Here to have fun, remember?” He grinned, and Jenny's insides wibbled at the delightful way the corners of his eyes crinkled up.

Mr. Crabby nodded and smiled in what seemed to Jenny to be a rather adoring fashion at Cutie Pie. _Oh, that's how it is. Wonder if Cutie Pie is aware?_ She'd seen many a 'mature' man besotted with a younger date, usually ending up played or disappointed.

These two, however, had a rollicking good time, drinking their way through several rounds of beer and shots. They also devoured a couple of wing baskets, french fries, fried pickles, and a blooming onion. The more they ate and drank, the louder they laughed, mostly at inside jokes. Jenny couldn't figure out what on earth they were talking about, but they sure thought it was hilarious.

When Cutie Pie returned from the Little Cowpoke's room, he had one of the cowboy hats hung up in there on his head and another in his hand. He crammed it onto Mr. Crabby's head, guffawing loudly. For one second Jenny thought Mr. Crabby was going to lash out angrily, but then he also joined in laughing.

“Hey, sweetheart, would you take our picture?” asked Cutie Pie. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

“Sure, of course,” she said, wiping her hands on the towel she always had ready in her back pocket. She took the phone and nodded at them. Mr. Crabby raised his half-full mug with a big grin and just a she clicked, Cutie Pie pointed at him with the same grin. They both looked ridiculous.

Not that she'd turn Cutie Pie down all the same.

“Here you go,” and she handed the phone back.

Cutie Pie took hold of her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb for a moment as he purred, “Thanks so much, babe.” She shivered – was he really...? He pressed her hand and gently tugged her closer.

“Time to be going – evil to wreak, mayhem to commit!” Mr. Crabby sounded bitchy as he threw money on the table, jumping up so fast he almost knocked his stool over. “Thanks ever so!” The English accent she'd barely noticed at first was more pronounced in his anger. He grabbed Cutie Pie's arm and wrenched him away from Jenny.

Cutie Pie rolled his eyes. “Sorry, honey, another time perhaps.” He winked at her, and she felt her cheeks flush.

“We, uh, we have karaoke on the weekends,” she said, trying not to sound like she was pleading.

“Do you, now! Well, I might just have to check that out,” he replied, and winked again.

“Come _on,_ Dean. Must you dip your wick at every watering hole we come across?” fumed Mr. Crabby.

“Of course not, Crowley. Just the ones with ladies as pretty as this.” One more squeeze of her hand and then his warm fingers left hers. She felt ridiculously bereft.

_Well, no wonder Mr. Crabby – Crowley – was so jealous. Cutie...Dean...really is sex on legs..._

They were out the door in a flash, leaving her with a table littered with dirty plates, glasses, and greasy napkins. As she began to clear the mess, she found the fifty dollar tip. She knew it was from Cutie Pie.

 _Maybe he'll be back Friday for karaoke..._ She hummed, making a mental note to wear the jeans that showed off her butt so good that night.

_And not bring his friend._


End file.
